Saturday, September 02, 2006


The jeweled butterflies of summer have
departed, and the maple leaves are turning,
the old trees by the beaver pond the first
to go scarlet and drop their leaves among
the drowsing stones and dried grasses.
Dare I hope for a turning of my own?
To become a creature of light and colour
and wind myself, would be a splendid thing.


Unknown said...

This is an arresting photo. I've not seen turned leaves yet. I'm still bidding fond farewells to the passing flowers. Your beautiful poem reminds me to embrace the change of season. Thank you for this.

Anonymous said...

Such bittersweet beauty. Lovely.

Maya's Granny said...

You always post such beauty! I know that I can come here and find solace for whatever roughness there might be in my day, and if there is none, you will just add to my delight.

Endment said...

Your photo captures my eye and your words my thoughts -
How wonderful to become a creature of light and color and wind....

to have nature fill me and change me...

Maureen said...

your photo is incredibly beautiful and with your words, reminds me: autumn. cool days. colder nights. crisp air. getting lost in colors and changes. my favorite time of year.